Leave Me to Love
by pocketsun
Summary: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself? RaoulChristine ErikOC
1. Chapter 1

**Title**:Leave Me to Love

**Author** i Megaphone (Formerly known as Fickle Girl)

**Rating** T, for adult themes, language, and violence.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the lyrics from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera Musical. I do not own anything but the plot and certain characters.

**Summary**: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself?

* * *

**Chapter One**:

The church bells rang loudly, celebrating the union of the happy couple within its walls. The snow outside swirled around the building, splattering against the dark brick walls. The scene could be described as a winter wonderland to anyone who happened to gaze upon it.

The doors of the church flew open, finally revealing the newlyweds. Raoul de Chagny picked up his young bride, and twirled her around. The crowd that had gathered around them cheered with excitement, throwing rice and singing. It was such a happy occasion. Raoul placed a soft kiss on his bride's lips as he slowly put her down, and wrapped his arm about her waist. They made their way toward the carriage, and waved goodbye to their guests.

Helping her into the carriage, Raoul gave one last wave to their friends and entered himself. The atmosphere was full of anxiousness, as the couple embraced passionately.

Raoul pulled a few stray curls away from his young brides face, and caressed her cheek.

"Oh, Christine, I love you so," he sighed, pulling her near him.

Christine smiled, making herself comfortable. This had been the happiest day of her life. True, she _had_ had some doubts, but now she knew that she had made the right choice. But, there was still one thought nagging her on. Deciding that it was finally time to share her secret, she grabbed her husbands arm, and smiled.

"Raoul, there's something you must know…oh, I'm so nervous…" Christine bit her lip, trying to figure out a way to tell him.

Raoul stared at her expectantly. "Darling, what is it?" he asked, afraid that something was wrong.

"Raoul, you're going to be a father."

* * *

Somewhere, lurking near the church, a figure cloaked completely in black seethed.

"You will never be rid of me," the man whispered bitterly, walking away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**:Leave Me to Love

**Author** i Megaphone (Formerly known as Fickle Girl)

**Rating** T, for adult themes, language, and violence.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the lyrics from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera Musical. I do not own anything but the plot and certain characters.

**Summary**: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself?

* * *

**Chapter Two**:

The sun rose slowly on a hot summer's day. All was quiet and calm outside the large cream estate, but within its walls was an atmosphere of complete insanity. Maids ran in and out of rooms, carrying towels, bowls of hot water, and scissors. A group of well dressed people sat in a large sitting room, waiting for an outcome to the present situation. A young man stood outside two large doors, pacing back and forth, nervous and excited about what was happening inside.

Screams could be heard from within the room, followed by sounds of others trying to calm the victim down. The maids ran into the room with their supplies, shutting the door behind them. Another scream came from the room, and the sound of a bowl being dropped and shattered was heard. The young man stopped pacing, and sunk into a chair near him. Putting his hands to his head, he tried to remain calm. Tapping his foot against the cherry wood of the floor, he began to hum a soft tune that echoed the memories of so long ago. He was shaken out of his reverie the moment the doors finally opened again. Rushing toward the man dressed in white, he waited for an answer.

The man pursed his lips, and took him by the shoulders. "Raoul, you really must try to stay calm. The Comtesse currently needs a sense of security, and your pacing will not help her, or the floor," he added with a sly smile.

Raoul smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "Monsieur Jacobbe, what you ask of me is quite hard to achieve. It isn't everyday that one becomes a father."

"My dear boy, you are right! But, for the sake of your wife and child, you must try." He stepped away from Raoul, and began to walk back into the room.

Feeling that his chance had come, Raoul decided to take the risk. "Monsieur Jacobbe, wait a moment." The doctor stopped, and turned. Raoul bit his lip, contemplating the words that were about to erupt from his lips. "Monsieur, would it be possible to see Christine?"

Jacobbe put a finger to his lips, and closed his eyes. Raoul felt that these mannerisms made him even more nervous than before. He began to perspire as the doctor moved toward him.

"Comte, I would not do this for just anyone, but for you, I shall allow it. Yes, you may go to your wife. But please, do not be alarmed by her behavior, it is completely normal for a woman in her position," he finished, smiling at the young man before him.

Raoul felt as if he had just won a pile of gold. He began to walk to the tall cream doors, awaiting the scene that would meet his sight in a mere matter of moments. He pushed the door open, and jumped as a cry rang out through the room. He quickly realized that the scream had not come from Christine…

A plump woman rushed toward him, smiling from ear to ear. "Comte de Chagny, oh, you are truly blessed," she sang, taking his hand into hers and shaking it.

He thanked her quickly, and moved toward the cries. His breath caught into his throat as he stared at the sight before him. Tears formed from the surge of happiness that had exploded inside him.

Christine, his Christine, sat before him on the large bed, rocking a small bundle in her arms. She beckoned for him to come, and he did just that. "Oh Raoul," she whispered, laughing as the bundle moved slowly against her.

"Raoul, do you wish to hold your daughter," she asked, looking up at him with those eyes of hers. He had never seen her eyes full of such happiness. He sat on the bed, and held out his arms as she carefully placed the small babe into his eagerly awaiting embrace. He stood, walking to the large windows across the room, and looked into the eyes that mirrored his own. The infant was perfect. Of course, he thought, as he rocked her gently, anything that Christine did was perfect. But, this bundle of joy was theirs. Their love had created this perfection, and he vowed to never let it be tainted. He made a silent vow then, to never let any harm come to this child, his daughter.

"My sweet child, I promise you, from this moment on, you shall never know pain. I will do whatever I must to ensure your safety in this world," he whispered, kissing her forehead softly. He moved back to Christine, and placed their daughter in her arms.

The babe cooed softly, as Christine sang a sweet lullaby. The infant fell into a deep slumber, listening to her words. Christine turned her attention to Raoul, and stroked his cheek lovingly.

"My love, how can I ever truly thank you for this gift you have given me," she asked, leaning against him.

He wrapped his arms around her, embracing the two women that mattered most to him. "Darling, this miracle was a creation of our love. This tiny babe shall always remind us of what we have. There are no need for thanks, I assure you. This sweet gift has been blessed by our love, that is all that should matter," he sighed.

"Raoul, I have a name for her."

"Love, any name you choose will be perfect," he assured her, waiting for the revelation.

She smiled then, and took his hands into hers.

"We shall call her Amalia."

* * *

The happy family did not notice the figure in black staring at them through the window. Nor did they hear the promise of revenge he whispered through his lips. As he walked away, crushed rose petals danced with the wind.

* * *

**A/N**: 

I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. It means a lot to me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**:Leave Me to Love

**Author**: i Megaphone (Formerly known as Fickle Girl)

**Rating**: T, for adult themes, language, and violence.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the lyrics from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera Musical. I do not own anything but the plot and certain characters.

**Summary**: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself?

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

Footsteps could be heard racing down the marble staircase in the early hours of the morning. A young girl flew down them quickly, giving onlookers the illusion that she was flying downward. She ran down a long corridor, not paying attention to anything around her. Maids looked on in shock as she came to an abrupt halt before two large wooden doors. She stood there for a few moments, catching her breath, and raised a hand to fix her long unruly crown of chestnut curls. After a few more moments of heavy breathing, she pushed open the doors and squealed in delight.

"Oh, Papa, you're finally home," Amalia breathed, flinging her arms around him, and embracing him tightly. She placed her head on his chest, and smiled silently. She had missed her father terribly these past few weeks. The usual joyous atmosphere did not feel the same without him.

Raoul ran his fingers through his daughter's hair, lovingly twirling the ringlets around them. He bent down, and placed a kiss upon her head, pushing her away, but keeping her at arms length. Studying her carefully, he was shocked by the changes he saw in her. He hadn't thought it possible that she could get any more beautiful. The eyes that mirrored his own were full of love, and the specks of green within the clear blue danced with happiness. Yes, his dear daughter had his eyes, but she was all her mother in every other way. Christine's features were all in their daughter, right down to her graceful mannerisms. He was amazed at how much Amalia had truly turned into a replica of her mother. If it hadn't been for her eyes, he'd have thought them twins. His daughter's lovely voice shook him out of his musings.

"Papa, I'm so glad that you are home. Maman and I have missed you. These past few weeks have been completely unbearable without your presence. I feared that maman would go mad if you did not return soon." She bit her lip nervously at the thought. It was true; her mother really had been at a loss the second her father had left. The love her parents shared was inspiring. She envied it in a way, but secretly, secretly she longed for a love just like theirs. She stared at her dear father, memorizing his handsome face. Her mother had told her tales of the life they had had before she had been born. The stories were so romantic, like something out of a novel. Through their years of marriage, they had aged, but the love they shared only grew stronger. Although, there were times when the happiness disappeared, and was replaced with bouts of sadness. She had never fully understood why these times took place, but from what she could see, her mother had been through a terrible event in the past.

Raoul watched as his daughter drifted deep into thought. He knew that look, his loving wife had the same look plastered on her face when times were bad, or when memories of the past invaded their perfect utopia. He did not like that look, it only brought pain and anguish later on. He placed his hand against his daughter's cool cheek, trying to gain her attention.

"Amalia," he said softly, caressing her cheek. She looked at him quickly, the doubt vanishing from her eyes. "Amalia, where is your maman," he questioned, concern filling his face. The entire time he had been gone, he had been worried about Christine. She never took well to his leaving. In fact, she constantly begged him to stay with her. The pain of past events had made her desperate. She feared for his safety. She feared that the man who had turned their world upside down would reappear, creating havoc once again.

Time and time again, Raoul had assured his wife that they were safe, that nothing would harm them. Still, she could never rest easy. This time had been the worst. She had pleaded with him, begging him to stay with her. She had embraced him tightly, sobs wracking her body. He had not wanted to leave her, but duty had forced him to go. The absence of Christine at the moment made him uneasy.

Amalia shivered as her father's gaze changed. The way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable. "Papa, maman is in the study. She has been there since early this morning. I shall call for her, yes?"

"No, I shall surprise her. I have a gift for her." Amalia's face lit up at the mention of gifts. He smirked at his daughter's face. He had wondered how long it would be until she mentioned what he had been waiting to hear since his return.

"Papa, a gift? Do you know what day tomorrow is," she prodded, waiting for her father to answer her. He couldn't have possibly forgotten. She was sure of this. He never forgot…

A look of pure triumph spread across his face, as he heard his daughter utter those words. He knew exactly what tomorrow was, but he decided to play dumb, wanting to see his child's reaction. "Hmm," he sighed. False confusion covered his eyes, as he looked straight into Amalia's. "Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow is Wednesday of course!"

Her face fell as her father's outburst pierced her soul. He had forgotten. She branded herself a fool. Her father had forgotten the most important day of her life. She moved away from him, and slumped into the nearest chair.

Raoul frowned; this was not the reaction he had expected. He knew she would be disappointed, but he had not thought she would retreat into herself. He walked toward her, placing his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"My sweet child, do you really think me that thoughtless? How could I ever forget what tomorrow brings? Your sixteenth birthday shall be celebrated, just as it should be."

Her eyes widened as she processed what her father had just said. He hadn't forgotten! She jumped up, embracing him. "Oh, Papa, you have made me so happy," she exclaimed, laughing as he twirled her around in his arms. He placed her down gently, and then pulled a box out of his pocket, which she noticed rather quickly.

"Amalia, I saw this while I was in London, and knew you would cherish it," he explained, placing the small box into her hands.

She examined the box, turning it. Slowly, she opened it. She gave a small gasp, as the realization of what was inside hit her. "Papa, it's beautiful! Oh, I love it," she cried, tears springing to her happy eyes. She smiled joyfully. The silver chain was long and cool. A diamond dove hung from it.

When she had been a child, her parents had taken her to their summer home in London. She had been very young, about five, and her father had taken her to a meadow. She had run around, picking flowers. Her father had placed his hand upon her head, and moved her gaze toward a large oak tree. A dove sat on a branch, its white feathers contrasting greatly against the dark oak. At that moment, Amalia had declared herself a dove as well.

She smiled fondly at the memory, and embraced her father one last time. "Papa, I thank you for this gift. It means more than you shall ever know. I love you," she uttered, and placed a kiss to his cheek.

At that moment, a maid ran in, calling for Amalia. She left, leaving Raoul to his quiet thoughts of Christine. He decided to find her, and left to go to the study.

* * *

Walking into the large room, he looked around. "Christine," he called, waiting for an answer. 

"Raoul, oh Raoul," a voice cried, and suddenly he was pulled into the loving embrace of his dear wife.

He pulled her to him, inhaling her scent. He was finally home. "My love, I missed you terribly," Raoul said softly, placing a kiss against her lips.

She kissed him back desperately, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Raoul, Raoul, I missed you. Raoul, I love you. Oh, Raoul, don't ever leave me again. Please, promise me that you will not leave me again. Promise me, please," she pleaded, holding onto him firmly.

"My love, you know that I cannot make that promise. I would only end up breaking it, and I do not want to do that. You know that I do not want to leave you, but I have a responsibility to keep. Darling, you know that I want to be with you," he explained, placing her face between his hands. God, he loved his woman far too much. At that moment, he wished that he could take all her pain away.

"I am sorry, darling. I was being silly. I know that you must leave at times, but alas, I am selfish when it comes to you. I wish that you did not have to leave so frequently. When you are gone, I feel as though a part of me has left as well."

"Christine…Christine, I do not deserve you," he sighed.

She giggled, and pulled him against her. "My love, you are everything to me, and I you. Oh, I love you," she murmured, kissing him once more. The kiss turned passionate, and she found herself being swept up into his arms.

The events that followed were a blur to her as clothing was shed, and two bodies became one.

* * *

**A/N**: 

Yes, yes, I threw in some fluff for all you R/C lovers. All is well at the moment, but that will change very soon.

**Coming up**: Amalia's birthday gala begins, and strange things start to happen. Muwaha.

I'd like to thank everyone who has left reviews. It truly does mean a lot to me. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**:Leave Me to Love

**Author**: i Megaphone (Formerly known as Fickle Girl)

**Rating**: T, for adult themes, language, and violence.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the lyrics from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera Musical. I do not own anything but the plot and certain characters.

**Summary**: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself?

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

The house de Chagny was in full buzz as preparations for the party began. Lilies and orchids were placed around the ball room, creating a soft look against the hard wood floors and tan walls. Candles were the only source of light at the moment. A grand crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room, ready to dazzle the guests that would arrive in the evening. Chefs and Maids ran around, placing silver dishes on a long wooden table, covered with beautiful white lace. Champagne glasses were stacked upon each other, giving away the look of a pyramid. The actual champagne stood untouched, anticipating the moment their corks would be popped open. An orchestra was preparing their music and stands in the center of the room. Sounds of violins and violas could be heard echoing around the home.

And throughout all of this, Christine could not be still. She had checked with the chefs many times, making sure that all of Amalia's favorite foods were made to perfection. After finishing with them, she had spoken to the maids about the arrangement of the tables and chairs. They had seemed a bit put off by her, but she had to make sure that everything was perfect. This was her sweet daughter's day, nothing could go wrong. Raoul had assured her many times that nothing would go wrong, but she could not believe him. She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling of anxiousness. Something was going to happen, and no matter how many times she checked everything, it was useless.

The cause of her worries had begun with a dream that she had had the night before. After their love making had ended, and they had drifted off to sleep, her thoughts had moved to another time. No, another man. She thought of him always, never forgetting the sound of his voice, or the feel of his touch. His face haunted her constantly. His actions were the source of her fear. He had been crazed. His love for her had driven him mad. He had schemed, he had murdered, all because of her. When he had let her go, a part of her had ached for him. She still ached for him, for the Phantom of the Opera.

After she had escaped with Raoul, they had stayed with family. News of the fire that had occurred at the Opera Populaire was the gossip that everyone fed on. But what the people really wanted to know was what had happened to the Opera Ghost. Talk of the Phantom of the Opera spread like wild fire, and the people of Paris talked of it for months. No one knew what had become of him. Many thought he was dead, others thought he had fled. A few believed that he still lurked inside the ruined Opera Populaire. People had questioned her at parties, wanting to know the truth. She had not known what had happened to him, nor did she know now. She suspected that he was still alive, although she would never admit it to Raoul.

They went on with their lives, never speaking of what had transpired down below in the Phantom's domain. It had been a mutual agreement; they thought that it would help them carry on with their lives. It had not worked. The past continued to haunt them, and it would never cease. These thoughts overwhelmed her on this day, the day of her daughter's birth. Amalia had been a breath of fresh air for their marriage. She had brought new hope and happiness into their lives. She had been the new beginning they had longed for, and she was the most important aspect of their lives, and would continue to be forever.

Christine feared that this happiness would be ripped apart. The ghosts from her past could come back and ruin it all at any moment. She knew that Erik lurked in the shadows still, waiting for the perfect moment to come back into their lives. She knew that news of her daughter's Masque had traveled around Paris. His silence had been deafening. She knew that he was waiting for her, waiting for the ideal moment. He hadn't truly let her go on that fateful night so many years ago. No, he had allowed her to leave for a certain amount of time. She was his, and he would come and claim her when the moment came along. All she could do now was wait. She waited and waited, all the while protecting her daughter from his identity. Amalia was innocent; she did not need to know the sins that had been made in her parents past. She deserved a happy life, and no one would take that away from her. Christine was ready for his return.

* * *

Amalia frowned into the mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. She had been looking for signs of becoming sixteen, but found nothing. She had thought that turning sixteen would change her appearance in some way, but she had obviously been wrong. She walked to her bed, and flopped down in a careless manner.

Today was her day. A Masque in her honor would be held in a few hours. Family and friends would come to celebrate her birthday. Gifts of jewels, gold, silver, and silk would be placed upon the large table in the foyer. She would gracefully float down the staircase, making sure that each step she made was perfect. The guests would watch silently, smiles plastered on their regal faces. Her gown of deep emerald silk would fit her elegantly, and she would accept the hand of her father when she reached the bottom.

These moments were supposed to excite her, but all she could feel was doubt. A nagging pain had grown in the pit of her stomach, and she could not make it disappear. The source of this feeling was still unknown, although her mother had been acting crazed the entire day. This had saddened her greatly, because the thought of her mother in any state but happiness was depressing. Her father had come into her bedroom early in the morning, whispering wishes of a wonderful birthday to her. He had presented her with the gown, and asked her to wear the necklace he had given her the day before. Breakfast had been perfect. Her mother had sat next to her, and placed her hand upon her own. Amalia had known something was wrong, for her mother had smiled at her in a false way. She feared that her mother was ill again. Father had assured her otherwise, but she knew her parents were hiding something from her. She yearned to know their secret, but knew it would never be revealed.

She had spent the rest of the afternoon in her room. The maids had come in to do her hair, and perfect her makeup. After they had left, her mother had come in. She had looked a bit better, and she had sat her down. They had talked of many things, most of nonsense. Maman had helped her dress, and then left to get ready as well.

Amalia sighed, and stood up. She moved over to the balcony, and walked out. It was a beautiful night. The stars were out, and the air was cool. She could see the guests arriving, carrying boxes of many sizes and wrapped in different colors of paper. She leaned over, wanting to get a better look at who was coming. The guests all had their masks on, which made it hard for her to figure out who they were. She had just finished staring at a plump woman in a pink gown and mask, when a man caught her eye.

He was dressed in all black. The only thing that wasn't black was his mask, or half a mask. It had to have been made of white porcelain. He looked up at her, and she gasped. He was staring at her with such intensity; it was beginning to make her flush. He bowed, and then entered the doors that lead into the foyer.

Who had that man been? She was sure she had never seen him before. Perhaps he was a friend of papa's. She wanted to meet him. The feeling that had been bothering her was quickly forgotten, as she thought about this mysterious man. She was only brought out of her thoughts when a knock at her door announced the entrance of her father.

"Amalia, it is time. Are you ready to greet all your guests?" Raoul asked, extending his arm to her. She smiled warmly at him, and nodded her head. He tucked her arm into his as she moved close, and kissed her forehead.

"You are beautiful, my darling. Everyone will be mesmerized by your presence," he whispered, as they made their way to the staircase.

* * *

**A/N**: 

Wow, I apologize for taking so long! I have been extremely busy, and haven't had any time to update any of my stories. 

Thank you all for taking time to leave reviews on the last chapter!

I hope you all enjoy chapter four. Chapter five will take about a week to get up, but it will be interesting. I suspect that Erik and Amalia will finally meet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**:Leave Me to Love

**Author**: i Megaphone (Formerly known as Fickle Girl)

**Rating**: T, for adult themes, language, and violence.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the lyrics from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera Musical. I do not own anything but the plot and certain characters.

**Summary**: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself?

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

The gasps and applause that rang out as Amalia walked down the staircase did not faze her. She knew that these people put on a show. These people did not know her, but they did know of her fortune. She could see the young men who would later ask her to dance staring at her with their hungry eyes. She could see the mother's of these men thinking of ways to get her mother to invite them to tea. These people, who all stood there clapping for her, were nothing but greedy, selfish fiends. They did not know anything but what their narrow minded families had taught them, and their gazes sickened her. She had promised herself that for her parents' sake, she would put up with their madness. Every birthday had been spent with these people, would one more be so hard? She hoped not, for she could not be responsible for the actions she would take if this evening overwhelmed her.

Her fathers arm held hers tightly as they made their way to the bottom, and as he disentangled himself from her, a rush of ice cold fear ran through her insides. His warmth had made her feel safe, but as he moved to her mother she wanted to cry out for his attention. The vultures were beginning to swarm toward her, and she felt sweat begin to form beneath her corset. The trembling began, and she reached for the nearest object to grab. When nothing came into contact with her hand, she closed her eyes and knew the worst was about to happen. She began to wonder how long it would take, because she did not feel the cool marble of the floor against her body. A warmth pressed against her, and she realized that she had not fallen. This warmth was not her father, but someone else. The arms that held her were strong, and did not let go until she was steady.

A man's voice rang into her head as she turned to face her savior. "Mademoiselle, are you all right," he asked, as he placed his hand on hers. His voice was melodic, it's tone soft, but deep. It was a beautiful voice, and she longed to hear more of it. She lifted her head to look at him, and gasped as she realized who he was.

"You, you're that man," she cried, as she stepped away from him, and pressed her back against the wall. This man, the man who had saved her from humiliation, was the same man who had sparked her attention when she had been in her room out on the balcony. His gaze had burned right through her, and here he stood, a look of shock written across his face. Or half a face, his other half was still hidden beneath that mask. An urge to remove the mask coursed through her, but she shook it away. This man, with his beautiful voice and strong arms had saved her, and she could do nothing but stare at him with a look of fright.

He moved close to her, and her breathing became erratic. This was not right, he was far too close. His warm breath surrounded her, and she began to feel dizzy. Her knees would go out soon, and she would be prey to him. "What man am I," he asked with a smug tone. The wall could have been a part of her at that moment, but she could have cared less. He was too close for comfort, and she couldn't move away from him. Did she want to? Her mother would have been furious if she had seen what was going on.

Gathering up enough strength to speak, she looked up at him and smiled. "You, my dear man, are my savior. I am quite sorry for my outburst; I was just so surprised by your sudden assistance. Please accept my apology, Monsieur, I did not mean to sound ungrateful."

He smiled down at her and put out his hand. She took it willingly, not really knowing why. "Mademoiselle, you need not apologize. I could not have let you fall, you could have been harmed. What person deserves that on their birthday? No, I could not let your party be ruined, I had to save you from that," he explained as they made their way to the ball room.

Amalia felt dizzy as his scent spread to her nose. He smelled of spice and leather, and it was the most wonderful scent she had ever come to know. This stranger was mysterious, and it only made her feel fainter. This man, this man who had helped her was amazing, and she wanted to know more. She wanted to know his secrets and most inner desires. She wanted to know everything about him, and it frightened her. These foreign feelings were taking over her entire being, and she had not known this man for more than an hour. Could this truly be happening?

She was thrown out of her thoughts as the loud music flew around her. This man walked with her into the ball room and beckoned her to follow him. They reached the dancing circle, and he placed his hand upon her waist. A spark hit her quickly, and she wanted more. His other hand held hers firmly, his movements guiding hers. She was lost in a different world where only they existed, and she never wanted to leave. His warmth was intoxicating, driving her to madness. She could no longer hear the band. A different melody began to fill her senses as they continued to dance. Words swam around her mind, words that she had never heard before. They hypnotized her, but she welcomed them. These words were taking over as the melody grew louder, and she felt as though she was spinning. His breath fell upon her neck, making her eyes close. She was no longer in control, the music had taken over.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul…?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door…?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us…?_

These words rang through her head, making her want more. They continued on, her dream like state growing more at each moment. It was like she had been hit with a spell that struck her numb of all feelings but desire. These were things she had never felt before, and at this moment in time she wondered how she had lived without it. How could one survive without desire? This man had done something, bewitched her, she was sure of it. But for some reason, she didn't care. The dance continued on, consuming her senses for what seemed like an eternity.

* * *

Christine sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. Her guests had tired her out with constant questions about Amalia. Many women had introduced their sons to her, hoping to spark an interest. Christine saw through this, but humored them any way. Over the years she had grown accustomed to these things. It saddened her, but humbled her as well, for she knew that she would never be like them.

This night was supposed to be for Amalia, but all she could think about were these people. She felt ashamed, and quickly changed her thoughts to much happier things. Her darling daughter was sixteen, it was such a shock. It had seemed like she had been an infant only yesterday. The years had gone by so quickly, but each and every moment with her family had been burned into her mind. Their life was so precious to her; she had done everything in her power to keep the ones she loved safe. She had succeeded so far, and prayed that it could go on forever.

Her marriage was strong; Raoul had been the perfect husband through all the good times and bad. He had been a constant, and she cherished him deeply. He had been a wonderful father to their daughter, and had made sure that she had been given a childhood full of love and happiness. Raoul was perfect in her eyes, and even though he told her not to, she told him that as much as she could. He deserved to know how amazing he was. She was proud to be his wife, and she hoped that he knew that.

"Darling, where have you gone to," Raoul questioned, his voice filling her thoughts. She shook her head, and turned to look at him. He looked so handsome, almost identical to what he had looked like the night of the Masque so many years ago.

"Oh, I was just thinking about our beautiful life, and my wonderful husband," she whispered softly to him, a smile spreading across her face as blush began to creep across his cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn't give him a chance. She quickly pressed her lips to his, not caring about the guests who looked on in disapproval. The feelings that coursed through her when she kissed him erupted, and a quiet moan escaped her lips as he snaked his hand around her back. She hoped this moment would last as long as it could, but as that thought crossed her mind, a shriek invaded its importance, and knocked it out of orbit.

Christine looked around quickly, trying to find the interruption. Raoul grasped her hand and lead her to the crowd that had formed near the doors. A feeling of fear began to form in the pit of her stomach, and memories from many years ago flashed through her mind. She squeezed Raoul's hand, and gazed at him. He had a fearful look in his eyes, and she became terrified. If this frightened her husband, it had to be bad. The crowd moved to let them through, and Christine cried out in horror. She ripped her hand away from Raoul, and fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. She could hear the guests speaking in hushed tones, disturbed by her actions. She felt Raoul wrap his arms around her, whispering words she could no longer understand. Her worst fear had finally come true; The Phantom of the Opera had returned, and he wanted revenge.

She let out another strangled cry, and began to weep. "Raoul, Raoul, he's come back! Whatever will we do? He'll never let me go, he'll never let me go," she screamed, as the darkness began to take over her weak body.

_And he'll always be there singing songs in my head…he'll always be there singing songs in my head…_

* * *

Raoul de Chagny was livid. Someone had to be playing a sick joke on his family. His hands clutched the note that had been left on the floor. Along with the note had been half a mask, and a red rose. This had not been at all amusing, and once everything calmed down, the culprit would be found and dealt with.

His poor Christine had been shaken to her core with fright, and this made him even more furious. This trick had hurt his wife, and he could not allow it to go on. Someone wanted to harm his family, and he would not let that happen. He would not let the ghost of so many years ago rip his family apart; he would do everything in his power to prevent it from happening.

He walked over to Christine and stretched out beside her. She hadn't woken yet, and he wanted to be there when she did. He had to assure her that no one was coming to get her. No one was going to harm her, or their daughter. She had been muttering in her sleep, thrashing around violently. Tears were stained to her face, and she was as pale as a ghost. His heart broke just looking at her. She looked so fragile, and he was afraid to touch her. He did not want to break her; he wanted to keep her safe.

He kissed her head, and began to whisper words of love into her ear. The doctor had said that she would be able to hear him, and that comforting words would help rouse her from the state she was currently in.

"Little Lotte, my darling, you must wake up. I promise you, you are safe. No one shall harm you as long as I am alive, I would never allow it. Love, I need you to open your beautiful eyes. Amalia needs you, it's still her birthday, would you really want to miss it? Christine…Christine…I beg of you, please wake up," he went on, willing her to awaken.

Just as he was about to admit defeat, she began to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up quickly, looking around the room wildly. "Raoul, he's back! Oh, he's going to take me, we'll be parted forever; he will never let me go. He's never let me go, and now he's come to make sure I can never get away! Raoul, please, don't let him take me," she threw herself into his embrace and began to weep like a wounded child. He could take no more of this, and made a promise to himself that he would personally take care of whoever had caused his love so much distress.

* * *

Amalia could not remember how she had come to be in the courtyard. The lights still shimmered around her, and she smiled as her mysterious savior sat down beside her. Their dance had been intoxicating; it had been unlike anything she had ever believed to be possible. The spark that had run through her only grew stronger as she sat in the company of him. He did not speak much, but she realized that she did not mind. The silence was soothing to her, and seemed to be much more idealistic than hushed whispers of desire.

"Mademoiselle, this night has been very interesting. You are unlike anyone I have ever met, and I mean that as a compliment. There is an inferno that burns inside you, but you try to keep it from emerging. I must tell you that by doing this, you are repressing emotions that are only human. Your soul cries out, but you deny it. Why? I do not understand, for I know that the outcome will only lead to heartache. A beautiful woman like you should not ever know what comes from that kind of ache." He took her hand into his, making her skin break out into goose bumps. The gesture was a simple one, but to her it was erotic, and made her long for things she had not known existed until this night.

"Monsieur, you speak as though you know what this ache feels like. Am I right to assume that you have been through what you just described to me? Should I not think that you are speaking from experience, and that your words are meant to guide me into making the right choices? If they are not, I apologize, but I must tell you that I am considering your words, and that I find you fascinating." Amalia could feel the tinge of red spread across her face. How could she speak so freely with someone she did not know? Her mother would have been so angry if she had been here to witness it.

She noticed him falter for a moment, and appreciated it. He had finally proved himself to be human, to be real, and she could truly be sure that this was not all a dream. His voice began to fill her ears again, making her dizzy. "My words are meant to help you, to prepare you for choices that you will soon have to make. I know the outcome of both, but I highly suggest that you let life in, and don't hide from emotions that we all feel. Why waste life, it is far too precious and short," he stood up quickly, knocking her out of the trance she had just been in. Was he leaving? No, he couldn't leave yet!

She raced after him, grabbing his arm. "Please, you cannot go! I don't even know your name," she cried out, making him whirl around and stare at her.

He cupped her face, and smiled gently. "Do not worry, we shall meet again," he whispered, and ran out into the darkness that was the night.

She could still sense his touch on her skin, it was smoldering her. If she had not known better, she would have thought that his imprint had been burned onto her body.

* * *

**A/N**: 

Well, what do you think? Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. It means a lot, and keeps me going. 

Next chapter will be up when I have some time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Leave Me to Love

**Author**: i Megaphone (Formerly known as Fickle Girl)

**Rating**: T, for adult themes, language, and violence.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the lyrics from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera Musical. I do not own anything but the plot and certain characters.

**Summary**: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself?

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

Amalia sighed as she made her way back to the manor. She was sure that her parents would be worried about her lack of appearance. As she crossed the large lawn that covered the front of her home, she noticed the many people exiting the front doors in a hectic manner. This sparked her curiosity, and she took off running in a very unladylike manner. She sprinted up the front stairs, slamming into guests unapologetically. They gasped in shock, frowning at her. Amalia couldn't seem to care at all.

As she entered the foyer, she took in the scene that filled her vision. There were police officers speaking to guests that had not yet left. Many people looked terrified, wringing their hands and pacing back and forth. She could not see her parents anywhere. Had something happened? Were they hurt? These thoughts began to frighten her, causing a shudder to wrack through her body. A hand grabbed her arm, and she twirled around quickly.

A handsome man, dressed in official police clothes gazed at her with a look of triumph. He let go of her arm, apologizing quietly. "Mademoiselle de Chagny, we have been searching the grounds for you. Your parents are in their quarters, and are awaiting your presence. If you'd just follow me please," he explained with an air of authority. Amalia nodded, and accepted his arm. They made their way through the manor, reaching her parents bedroom.

"I shall be waiting for you; we have much to speak of. When you are done, please meet me in the study. This is official police business, so I would advise you to come alone." He noted her look of fear, and quickly added, "Mademoiselle, do not worry! You will only be answering a few simple questions. Please do not look as though you are approaching your execution!"

She smiled then, accepting the humor in his tone. "Monsieur, I did not catch your name," it was a statement more than a question.

A look of shock ran across his face, but quickly disappeared and was replaced by a smile. "Ah, I apologize for my rudeness, my name is Richard, Richard Deboir," he stuck out his hand, waiting for her to shake it. She was shocked by this, but took his hand anyway.

"Well, Monsieur Deboir, I shall see you again when I am done here. Until then," she sighed, moving toward the doors. She kept her back to him, and listened to his footsteps moving away from her. Shaking slightly, she knocked softly on the familiar door. A hushed voice told her to come in, and she did just that. What she saw caused her to gasp loudly.

"Papa, what is wrong with maman," she cried, rushing to her mothers side. She took in her mother's fragile state. Her face was pale, her hands cold. An icy fear ran through her veins; something was terribly wrong. Hearing no response from her father, she turned to look at him. The sight frightened her even more.

Her father, who usually had a calm and sweet demeanor, was currently looking murderous. He moved toward her swiftly, pulling her up to him. His grip was strong around her arms, and she cried out in pain.

"Papa, you're hurting me," she whispered while gazing into his eyes. He did not look like her father at that moment. She could not understand what was going on. She could not understand why her father was acting like a madman. It truly did frighten her. His grip on her did not loosen, but instead he began to shake her, speaking quickly.

"Where have you been? Your mother and I have been so concerned. The police could not find you. We were beginning to think he had taken you! Do you not recognize how dangerous our situation currently is? Do you not notice the way your mother worries? Can you not comprehend that you mean the world to us, and that if anything happened to you, your mother and I would die? Are you listening to me, child? Are you hearing these words that I am telling you?" He shook her with each sentence, wanting to make her see how grave their current state of affairs truly was.

When she did not react, he looked down and felt a stab dash through his heart. His daughter was quietly weeping. He instantly realized what he was doing, and let go of her. Pulling her into his embrace, he ran his hands through her locks. What had come over him? How could he have treated her in such a way? A wave of guilt washed over him; his reaction had been insane. She did not even know what had happened. He was a horrible father.

"Papa, I am sorry."

Her tiny voice ripped him out of his self hatred. He took in her red-rimmed eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, and her frazzled chestnut curls. He had caused all of these things. He had hurt his daughter, and now she was apologizing. Raoul felt even worse than he had a few minutes ago. He placed a shaky hand on her face, caressing her cheek softly.

"Darling, you do not have anything to be sorry about. It was I that overreacted. I should not have acted the way I did. You must understand, you mean everything to your mother and me. If anything ever happened to you...my love, we could not accept it. I could not go on knowing something dreadful had happened to you," he explained, cupping her face in his hands.

She smiled softly, and moved to the small sofa that sat against a large window. She motioned for her father to join her, and he obliged. She bit her lip, still feeling a bit shaken by the previous events that had occurred.

"Papa, please, you must tell me what happened. What could have caused maman to fall into such a state?" she begged, pulling his hands into hers. He squeezed them reassuringly and sighed.

"Mon chere, your maman received a great shock tonight. I do not know how to explain it, but something from her past, from our past came back to haunt us. I wish I could tell you everything, but it is your mother's secret to tell. I made a promise to her many years ago, and I cannot break it. When your mother wakes, she will decide whether to share it with you or not," he noticed the look on Amalia's face and laughed. She was shocked by this and scowled at him.

"Papa, do not make fun of me!" she cried reproachfully. He did not answer, but instead gathered her into his arms in the way he had when she was a small child. She smiled at the gesture, laying her head against his chest. The sound of his heart beating soothed her, and she soon began to feel dazed.

There was a loud knock at the door, which knocked her out of her serenity. She moved away from her father as he went to open the door. The hushed voice of a man filled the room, and she noted that it was familiar. She groaned when she realized who it was.

"Ah, Mademoiselle de Chagny, I see that you are still occupied. Unfortunately, I must take my leave soon, so our meeting will have to begin now," Monsieur Duboir explained, offering his hand to her when he reached the spot where she sat. She took it, and thanked him. Her father stared at them, and she realized that he did not know what was going on.

"Papa, Monsieur Duboir is here to question me about this evening. We shall only be a few minutes, I promise. I shall return to you and maman shortly," she said, quickly kissing her fathers cheek. He looked at her oddly, but nodded.

* * *

The pair reached the study, and Monsieur Duboir ushered her into a chair. He sat across from her, a pad of paper and a pen in his hands. She looked at him, realizing that he was quite handsome. The minute the thought ran through her mind, she chided herself. This man was an officer of the law; she could not go about thinking such inappropriate things! 

"Now, Mademoiselle de Chagny, did you notice anything strange tonight," he asked, looking at her seriously.

Amalia shifted in her seat. Many strange things had happened on this night. She had met the most wonderful man. He was so mysterious and amazing. But a dashing fellow and a sensual dance were far too private to share with a stranger. Although, this man _was_ a police officer and she _was_ supposed to tell him the truth. With a sigh she relented, and told him everything that had happened.

He nodded every now and then, scribbling things onto his pad. "And you do not know who this man is," he questioned.

"No, I do not. As a matter of fact, I do not even know his name. But Monsieur, I hardly believe that he is the culprit. He was with me the entire time; there is no way he could have caused the commotion." He looked at her doubtfully, but nodded anyway.

He stood and walked around to help her up. "Mademoiselle, I thank you for your time. Your information was extremely helpful. Alas, it is getting late and I must bid you adieu," he gave her hand a feather light kiss, turned on his heel, and left.

Amalia huffed indignantly, falling to the chair below her. This night had certainly been eventful. And to think, she had thought her sixteenth birthday would go by smoothly.

She decided to retire to her room when something caught her eye. There, on the table behind her lay a red rose with a black ribbon tied to its stem. She looked at it curiously, wondering how long it had been there. Had it been there when she had entered the study? Furrowing her brow, she picked it up, gingerly pulling at the ribbon. It was then that she noticed there was something hanging at the end of the tie.

A pink engagement ring sparkled at her, beckoning her to touch it. Who did it belong to? And more importantly, who had left it?

* * *

**A/N**: 

Wow, only one person left a review for chapter five. Thirty-six people _did_ read it, so I guess that's good. I'm really starting to get into the story. I have a plot and everything, which is truly shocking for someone like me. I think I'll be able to get the next chapter up sooner than I had expected.

Reviewing inspires the muse. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**:Leave Me to Love

**Author**: i Megaphone (Formerly known as Fickle Girl)

**Rating**: T, for adult themes, language, and violence.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters from The Phantom of the Opera. I do not own the lyrics from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera Musical. I do not own anything but the plot and certain characters.

**Summary**: Raoul and Christine have been happily married for sixteen years. The love they share has produced their only child, a daughter. When she goes to live at the newly rebuilt Opera Populaire, will history repeat itself?

**Chapter Seven:**

* * *

_The dark halls of the Opera Populaire filled Christine with fear as she made her way through them. Voices from the past echoed around her, claiming her senses. The candles that lit her way flickered as her gown swished and swayed. She did not know where she was going, but continued to follow the candles anyway. _

_The sudden appearance of a black door made her jump. She was absolutely certain that it had not been there a moment ago. A familiar melody could be heard from behind it, and a voice in her mind beckoned her to push the door open. She obliged, and turned the golden door knob, taking in the sight that fell before her eyes._

_He stood there, his cape flowing behind him. The white porcelain mask he wore covered half of his face, hiding the horror that lived beneath it. His eyes called for her, begging her to take his hand. She found that she could not resist him, and moved closer to the dark angel, staring at the hand that was held out for her to grasp._

_She took it, waiting for something to happen. He smiled at her, pulling her against him. Words that she had tried to forget began to pour out of his lips, and she realized that she was singing as well. His voice blended beautifully with hers. The hypnotic sound of his voice claimed her, and she felt herself letting go of whatever she had come to know as reality._

_He was all that mattered._

_He led her through the familiar maze, glancing back at her every few moments. She shivered at his gaze, wanting nothing more than to keep it on her. They descended the stone staircase, and she saw that a black horse was awaiting their presence. He lifted her onto it, and led them to the edge of a lake._

_The gondola was familiar, and she let out a sigh as she felt him lift her from the horse. He helped her into the gondola, and she began to sing again. He encouraged her, telling her to sing for him. She continued, not knowing how to deny him. She did not know how long she had been singing when they reached the lair._

_He left the boat, and then took her hand. She let him pull her from the boat. She let him lead her to the dove-shaped bed. The silky red sheets called out to her, and she let him place her on them. She watched as he stood before her, singing words that had haunted her for so long._

_He stopped singing. She was confused by this. He wasn't supposed to stop singing, she was sure of it. He sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze finding her own._

"_Christine, I have waited here for you for so long. I never lost hope. I knew that you would come to me. I knew that you could not resist the music of the night," he whispered, his green eyes glowing eerily as he spoke._

_She suddenly realized where she was, and screamed. He had taken her down to his lair again. The only difference was that she had let him! She wanted to leave this place. She did not want him near her. She knew that if she let him come any closer, she could not stop him from claiming what he had wanted so many years before._

_He smiled knowingly at her. "Oh, Christine, how times have changed us both. Years ago, this would have satisfied me. Unfortunately for you, I've come to realize that you will no longer be enough for me!"_

_He grabbed her, pulling her against him roughly. She felt his hands grip her hips, and she cried out in pain._

"_Yes, that's right! You fear me, just as you always have! Christine, you are right to fear me! Nothing can save you from what is to come, not even your precious Vicomte! Ah, where is here? Oh, yes, I almost forgot…"_

_He put his fingers under her chin, and forced her to look to the right. The sight that met her eyes made her cry out in horror. There, on the floor, lay her beloved. He was covered in blood, a lasso hung around his pale neck. She fought to free herself from her captor, but he would not let her go._

"_You monster, how could you? You let us go, you le us go! Why, why did you do this? Why!" she screamed, scratching whatever came into contact with her nails. _

_He hissed in pain, and threw her to the floor. "Vicomtess, you truly are a fool if you believed I would ever let you go. You knew I would come one day. What you weren't expecting was that I would come to claim not you, but your daughter!" he ran to the left of her, and grabbed something. _

_Amalia stood before her, dressed in a wedding gown. Christine cried out in agony, not wanting to believe what was in front of her. _

_He moved to her daughter's side, placing his hands around her small wait. Amalia did not protest. The Phantom of the Opera was going to take her daughter, and she could not stop him._

"_My bride," he whispered, making her face him. A ring appeared in his hands, and he roughly slipped it on her finger. He smiled then, amused at the situation._

"_It is done! She is mine! And now you will stay down here with your beloved husband, rotting away in the bowels of the opera house!" he yelled, grabbing her and throwing her on the ground next to Raoul._

_She began to scream, begging Amalia to help her. She begged her daughter to run, leave while she had a chance. Nothing worked. And as the cool metal pierced her skin, the last image she saw was her daughter kissing the Phantom._

_Someone was calling her name, but as she looked around, she could not find whoever it was. The calls grew louder, and she suddenly felt herself beginning to drift away from the scene. Was she dying?_

"Christine, Christine wake up!"

She felt someone shaking her, and she groaned as she opened her eyes. Her vision caught sight of her lovely husband, and she cried out in relief. It had been a dream! He had not taken her family away from her. She smiled then, wrapping her arms around Raoul.

"Oh, Raoul, I had a nightmare. Please, don't worry," she sighed, pushing herself away from him, and making him look at her. She smiled triumphantly as she saw him relax.

He caressed her face, and placed a chaste kiss against her lips. "Well then, Little Lotte, you must get up. Your daughter is waiting for you, and you shouldn't keep her waiting any longer," he said, while pulling her out of their warm bed.

After sharing a few more kisses, he left her to dress. She called for her maid, and began to lay out her clothes for the day. After her maid had helped her, she made her way to the dining room. Her daughter and husband sat there, conversing animatedly, and eating their breakfast. She smiled at the sight; she was so blessed.

Amalia noticed her mother, and beckoned her to come and join then. Christine obliged, and took the seat near her husband. She did not miss the constant looks her daughter gave her as they continued to eat.

"Amalia, is something wrong?" she asked, worried by her daughter's unusual behavior.

Amalia blushed, and quietly said that she was fine. This was not like her daughter to be bashful and quiet. Something _was _wrong. Of course, last night had been frightening, and she had not forgotten the events that had occurred. But, unlike last night, she was not going to let anything ruin her day. No, her past would not put a strain on her relationship with her daughter.

"Darling, after breakfast, would you like to take a walk with me outside?" she asked her daughter. She wanted to spend a bit of time alone with her. No, she _needed_ to spend some time with her.

"Oui, Maman, I would like that very much," she said, folding her hands across her lap and smiling slightly.

Satisfied, Christine continued on with breakfast, reveling in the joy that her family brought her.

* * *

The air outside was very nice for October. The sun was out, gleaming against the many leaves that were scattered across the grass. Christine found this time of year to be beautiful, and walked along the cobblestone path with her daughter. As they made their way to the stone bench, both women sat down.

Amalia stared at her mother, not knowing where to start. Should she tell her everything that had gone on at the party? Should she tell her of the man who had preoccupied her dreams all night long? Was it appropriate? She bit her lip nervously, contemplating her options. This was far too complicated!

Sensing her daughter's distress, Christine took the lead. "Amalia, is there something you'd like to share with me?" she asked, taking her daughter's hands into her own. She noticed that they were ice-cold, but did not say anything regarding it.

"Maman, how did you know that you were in love with papa?" There, she had said it!

To say that Christine was shocked by her daughter's question was an understatement. Why would her sweet child want to know these things? She closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to gather her thoughts. She had to go about this in the right way. She could not say the wrong thing.

"How did I know that I loved your papa? Hmm, let me think. Well, I think that it all began when he fetched my scarf from the ocean when we were children. Oh, if you could have seen him!" she chuckled at the memory.

"Your papa was all dressed up, but he chose not to care about getting wet just to save my scarf! I was very grateful, not only about my scarf, but also that I had met such a nice boy. After that, we became the best of friends. We would play at the beach, or my father would read us stories. Sometimes, he would play the violin for us. After my father passed away, Raoul came to me. He comforted me, and he promised me that I would never be alone. I cherished him in that moment. Unfortunately, we were separated for a long time. I had to go and live at the Opera Populaire, for I did not have any other family. As the years went by, I always thought of him, and always wondered if we would ever meet again. Then fate stepped in, and he became the Patron of the Opera House. Oh, I was so excited to see him! He did not recognize me at first, but when he finally did…it as almost as if we had never parted," she glanced at her daughter, and smiled as she saw the look of delight upon her beautiful face.

When her daughter made no sound, she continued on. "He still made me feel safe. Then, one night after a terrible ordeal fell upon the Opera, your father comforted me once more. He promised me that he would keep me safe, and that he would never let anything or anyone harm me. I knew then that he would always be with me. After promising me these things, he told me he loved me! Oh, I was shocked, but I knew that he really meant it. I did not say it back, I was not ready yet, but your father was patient with me. Even though I did not say it, I felt it in my heart. I knew that we would be together forever," she finished her tale, purposely skipping over the other events that had occurred. It was not the right time to share those things with her daughter. Silently, she vowed that when the time _did_ come, she would finally reveal all to her.

"Oh, maman, that is so romantic! It is obvious that you and papa were meant to be from the start. Maman, do you think that I could ever have what you two share?" she asked silently, waiting for her mother's response.

"Sweet child, of course you will! You are young, and you have time to find love. I promise you, one day you will find yourself madly in love with a man. It will come as a shock, but it will be beautiful." She embraced her daughter, and wondered how the years had gone by so quickly. This young woman before her was amazing, and she knew that she would find someone just as amazing to love her completely.

Amalia held her mother tightly, content with what they had just shared. She had been so wrong about her feelings for that man! It could not have been love. The things that she had felt were nothing like what her mother had just told her. She had been so silly, thinking herself in love with a stranger!

"Mademoiselle, there is a man in the foyer waiting for you," a maid said, causing Amalia to jump slightly. Her mother pulled away from her, and gave her a funny look.

"A man you say, Elise?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face. "How interesting, how _very_ interesting."

Amalia could not believe her mother. She knew that she did not have any male suitors, and here she was, making fun of her!

"Maman, if you would excuse me," she sighed, following Elise to the foyer.

* * *

She followed the maid, and let her take her leave once they had reached her destination. She gasped as she saw who had been waiting for her. There, standing in the foyer, was none other than Monsieur Duboir!

"Ah, Mademoiselle de Chagny, how wonderful to see you again," Monsieur Duboir said, taking her hand and kissing it lightly.

She laughed at this, and moved away from him. "Good morning, Monsieur. I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?" she asked, not wanting to deal with him at the moment.

He feigned a look of shock, but smiled nonetheless. He offered his arm, and she took it. As they walked, he explained that he had been sent back to speak to her and make sure she was alright.

"Of course, I did not have to come, but I really did want to see that you were fine," he said, staring at her intently. She blushed under his gaze, and suddenly found the room to be quite warm. That fact was quite odd, considering it was October.

"Monsieur, you are far too polite. I do not think that anyone else would have bothered to come and check on me," she said, unconsciously holding his arm tighter.

He noticed this, and gave her a smile that made her feel light in the head. How odd, she thought, furrowing her brows in confusion. They reached the sitting room, and she sat down. She gestured for him to join her, and he did just that.

Amalia suddenly realized that his knee had brushed against her own. She was sure that it had been an accident, but she had still noticed it. She placed her hands upon her lap, and looked at him with interest.

He took the initiative, and began to speak. "Right, well, as far as I can see, you are definitely alive and well. I am very pleased with this. Hopefully, nothing else will happen, and you'll be fine."

"Monsieur, again, I really must thank you. You are kind, and just the thought that you would want to make sure that I am alright makes me feel much more safe," she said. She suddenly realized that these words had been spoken by her mother, and felt a twinge of fear course through her. He made her feel safe…

"Mademoiselle, it is my job to keep you safe! If anything happened to you, I'd be a waste. Your safety is my number one priority, and I will not rest until it is assured," he said passionately, grasping her hands within his larger ones.

She did not remember giving him permission to do so, but let him carry on. His hands held hers tightly, and she smiled as she stared at them. They fit together nicely, as if they were made to be entwined. He continued speaking to her, but she did not listen. Instead, she stared at him, realizing that he really _was_ quite good-looking. She felt comfortable in his presence, unlike the feelings she got when she was around the gentleman suitors that would bore her to the point where she wished for death.

His voice was lovely as well. She stared at his lips as he spoke, and liked the way they looked when he would smile. She noticed the dimples that would appear on his cheeks, and felt the sudden urge to touch them. Of course, she didn't, but she couldn't forget that she had wanted to.

"Mademoiselle, did you hear what I just said," he asked firmly, bringing her thoughts to an end.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. What were you saying," she asked innocently.

"I said, your father has asked me to be a sort of guard for you. I wanted to know if you would mind. If you have any reasons for not wanting me to be, I'll gladly tell him that I can't."

Her insides began to quiver, and she had to stop herself from jumping up and dancing around the room. Oh, she could kiss her father for this! This lovely man would be her guard. She couldn't find any reason not to let him.

"Monsieur, I would be honored to have you be my protector," she said quietly, gazing at her lap. He was still holding her hands, and she could not come across a reason to get him to stop.

Unfortunately, he did realize, and looked down in shock. He quickly let her hands go, and stood up in a way that would make one think he was on fire. "Mademoiselle, please accept my apologies. I should not have done that," he said, putting a hand through his hair.

She could have laughed at the sight of him, but stopped herself. She grabbed his hand, making him look at her. "Monsieur, I assure you, there is no need to apologize. No harm done," she teased, giggling as he looked at her, stunned.

He was about to say something, when his eyes caught sight of the ring that was placed on her finger. It looked to be an engagement ring. That solitary thought made him frown. She was engaged? He had not known!

Amalia's smile vanished as she saw him frown. Had she done something wrong? Had she hurt his feelings? She had not meant to!

"Mademoiselle, may I ask who the lucky fellow is?" he suddenly asked, and she found herself even more confused. Who was he speaking of? And why was he lucky?

"Monsieur Duboir, I am sorry, but I do not understand. What are you asking me exactly?" she asked, not knowing how to go about this.

He looked at her for a moment, and then spoke. "Mademoiselle, your fiancée. I was just wondering if I knew him."

Her fiancée! She did not have a fiancée. Why would he have thought – and then it hit her. He had been looking at her hand moments before he had frowned. Oh, he thought that a man had given her the ring!

"Richard," she said, not noticing that she had used his first name, "I'm not engaged! This ring, it was a gift." She saw the look he was giving her, and continued, "It was a gift, but I do not know who it was from. But, I can assure you, I am not engaged."

A huge grin spread across his face, and he sighed in relief. The grin fell when he took in what she had just said. _"It was a gift, but I do not know who it was from." _What if the person who had caused such chaos last night had given this to her?

"Mademoiselle, you are certain that you do not know who gave you this ring?" he asked urgently. The look she gave him confirmed his question, and he began to panic. If the man had given her the ring, she was in danger. She'd have to leave for a while. It was the only way to keep her safe! He'd have to speak to the Vicomte about this as soon as possible.

"Unfortunately, I must leave. I have urgent business to attend to, and I cannot keep it waiting. Mademoiselle, it has truly been a pleasure," he said, and then kissed her hand. He quickly left, not looking back.

Amalia was utterly confused. What had just happened? What had caused him to leave so suddenly? Oh, men were so hard to understand!

With a loud sigh, she plopped herself down onto the couch, and crossed her arms across her chest.

* * *

Wow! I think that's the longest chapter I have ever written. And that's 17 pages worth of madness for you! I really enjoyed writing all that. 

Now, on to Amalia. As you can see, her feelings are everywhere at the moment. It isn't strange, seeing as she's a sixteen year old girl, who's never been in love before. She doesn't understand anything she's feeling, and she's quick to assume things about people. I really don't believe that she's in love with Richard or Erik right now. That may change as this story progresses, but for now, Amalia is just an overemotional teenager. 

As you can see, I've put my little plan into motion. Richard will suggest Amalia go away for a bit, and I'm sure Raoul will agree - but not at first. Hmm, and where will she go? Well, I think you all know where she'll go. 

Hmm, this fic has received 430 hits. Chapter six had 64 views, yet only 2 people reviewed. I'd love it if you could take a few minutes out of your busy lives and leave a review for me. I really don't want you to think I'm begging, but I just want to know what you all think. Be it negative or positive, it doesn't matter. I'm all for constructive criticism. 

And I'm sure you've all realized by now that I do not have a beta. I really don't know how to go about getting one, so it'll be just me until I figure that out. 

Happy New Year! 


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